“You know that’s not what I mean…”
“I know.” Charlotte slid closer, winding herself into his arms. She cupped his cheeks and kissed him, bold and soft. “I’m sorry, Anthony.”
“So you know you messed up, but you’re not planning to do anything about it, right?”
Charlotte blinked at him. “That’s not it. It was just… risky. If you’d known, you never would’ve let me go…” Her voice faded.
“Are you going to pull this stunt again?”
“I will!” She caught herself, then quickly tried to fix it. “I mean, next time, I’ll bring you with me!”
Anthony didn’t answer. Staring at her earnest face, he realized he couldn’t keep pretending to be mad. He reached out and brushed his fingers across her cheek, worry etched in his brow. “Does it hurt?”
“Huh?”
She glanced down at her hand, then shrugged. “I don’t really feel anything.”
“I’m asking if the symptoms from the gene mutation hurt.”
Charlotte’s smile faltered. So, he really had seen through her.
“Not so far,” she said, telling the truth. “My hand just goes weak every now and then.”
Anthony studied her, unsure whether to believe it. His voice came out rough. “You’re not lying?”
“Of course not.” Charlotte’s eyes sparkled as she looked at him. She curved her lips into a half-smile, trying to sound light. “Anthony, relax. If it really comes down to it, if I can’t find the antidote and I’m dying, I’ll just cling to you and go out by your side.”
“You’re not going anywhere.” Anthony pulled her tight against him, pressing his cheek to her hair. He could feel her heart beating. “I won’t let anything happen to you,” he said, steady and certain.
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